Another “Swamp-Fight.”
After this action, a complete change was observed in the spirit of the army. Boasting was heard no more; and the eagerness of the troops to be led against the enemy was no longer difficult to restrain. No one expressed desire for a second expedition across the Ouithlacoochee, and the “Cove” was to remain unexplored until the arrival of reinforcements. The volunteers were disheartened, wearied of the campaign, and not a little cowed by the resistance they had so unexpectedly encountered—bold and bloody as it was unlooked for. The enemy, hitherto despised, if it had aroused by its conduct a strong feeling of exasperation and vengeance, had also purchased the privilege of respect.
The battle of the Ouithlacoochee cost the United States army nearly a hundred men. The Seminole loss was believed to be much greater; though no one could give a better authority for this belief than that of a “guess.” No one had seen the enemy’s slain; but this was accounted for by the assertion, that during the fight they had carried their dead and wounded from the field!
How often has this absurd allegation appeared in the dispatches of generals both victorious and defeated! It is the usual explanation of a battle-field found too sparsely strewn by the bodies of the foe. The very possibility of such an operation argues either an easy conflict, or a strong attachment between comrade and comrade—too strong, indeed, for human nature. With some fighting experience, I can affirm that I never saw a dead body, either of comrade or foeman, moved from the ground where he had fallen, so long as there was a shot ringing upon the ear.
In the battle of the Ouithlacoochee, no doubt some of our enemies had “bit the dust;” but their loss was much less than that of our own troops. For myself—and I had ample opportunity for observation—I could not swear to a single “dead Indian;” nor have I met with a comrade who could.
Notwithstanding this, historians have chronicled the affair as a grand “victory,” and the dispatch of the commander-in-chief is still extant—a curious specimen of warlike literature. In this document may be found the name of almost every officer engaged, each depicted as a peerless hero! A rare monument of vanity and boasting.
To speak the honest truth, we had been well “whipped” by the red skins; and the chagrin of the army was only equalled by its exasperation.
Clinch, although esteemed a kind general—the “soldier’s friend,” as historians term him—was no longer regarded as a great warrior. His glory had departed. If Osceola owed him any spite, he had reason to be satisfied with what he had accomplished, without molesting the “old veteran” further. Though still living, he was dead to fame.
A fresh commander-in-chief now made his appearance, and hopes of victory were again revived. The new general was Gaines, another of the “veterans” produced by seniority of rank. He had not been ordered by the Government upon this especial duty; but Florida being part of his military district, had volunteered to take the guidance of the war.